


It's Wrong!

by womanaction



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU S6, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanaction/pseuds/womanaction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy and Spike have been spending a lot of time together since the defeat of Glory, but it's not like anything would ever happen. After all, it would be wrong. AU S6. Oneshot. Soft R.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Wrong!

She hadn’t really done anything wrong, so there was totally no point in feeling all weird and guilty. It wasn’t like there was anything going on between her and Spike outside of the realm of whatever weird alliance they’d forged three years ago and not really managed to shed.

Somehow, now that Glory was nothing but a memory, it made sense for Spike to do a little more, patrol-wise. He’d stepped up after all, hadn’t he? Back when she hadn’t had time to overanalyze every little thing, just said _Sure, yes_ and _Thank you_ and _That was real_ as the events of her life spun out of control. He’d decided of his own accord to really act like a white hat, and there was no taking back that kind of call.

Plus, it wasn’t like she had been overloaded with company lately. Willow was taking some sort of online correspondence course on “the Deeper Magicks” which managed to suck up more of her time than her full course load last semester, Tara had started going to therapy after the whole brain destroyage deal, Giles had flown back to England for a bit of a holiday after a series of mumbled excuses, Anya was splitting time between minding the store and reading every wedding magazine issued since 1903 while Xander worked his butt off taking extra jobs to try and pay for this ridiculous expense he was in no way prepared for. Not that it was any of her business. So she was holding down the fort with Dawn, who was in summer school anyway due to her extreme class-missing since like…February.

Spike, obviously, had nothing going on. _The benefits of being dead._ Therefore, it made total sense for him to add on to his previous stepping-uppage to the new role of Patrol Partner. He seemed only too happy to watch her back. _Probably because he also gets to check out my butt, but…_

Anyway, obviously nothing was wrong with that. The figurative back-watching, that is. Years ago, mortal enemies, sure, maybe. Now? No biggie.

Of course, being partners with Spike meant that she was suddenly spending a lot more time with him. Before, her voluntary time commitment was about zero point zero when he was concerned, but somehow now she saw him for a least a few hours every night, then Dawn would insist on him coming over for a movie or too-spicy Chinese food on Saturday or Sunday. Surprisingly, it wasn’t really that bad; sure, he was a self-involved, obsessive, undead asshole, but he also remembered her complicated orders and sometimes brought new-release rom-coms that he’d swear he hadn’t stolen from the Blockbuster on Elm. God, it’d been so long since she’d kept up with the times movie-wise. _Slaying does that to a girl._

She hadn’t exactly shared some of this info with the others, but that wasn’t because she was doing something wrong. They were just…busy. Nothing weird about it.

* * *

Guilt-free Buffy, that was her. Like a gross no-fat fake-sugar imitation-chocolate-chip cookie. Totally nutritious. Not that she was planning on being eaten any time soon.

Uh…in any sense of the word.

_Geez, me, mind in gutter much?_

So maybe she’d kissed Spike again, it wasn’t like it meant anything. Totally mitigated by circumstance.

_Not_ that she wanted to lend any credence to Faith’s wacky philosophy, the whole “hungry and horny” thing? Total yuck. But there was no denying that slaying could lead to a certain…blood-pumpiness.

It had been a great night, slay-wise. A few vamps staked easily, and then this big nasty demon she kept forgetting the name of (something like a…Kiss-rack? Kit-stack?) jumped them. Thank God she’d worn some practical pants, because within a minute she was straddling its back and trying to strangle it while Spike distracted it with heavy hits to what passed for the thing’s face.

The bad thing about demons was that they didn’t conveniently disintegrate, so once the thing was dead they had to drag it behind some bushes. Spike had sniffed in disgust. “Glad this didn’t happen in my backyard. Kwissraths smell nasty enough before all the rotting.”

Of course, she’d rolled her eyes, but she was just teasing when she said, “Right, that’s the priority, that it didn’t lower your property value. Who cares about the innocent lives we could have spared?”

“Hey, evil, remember?”

“Oh, right. That whole saving the world thing…”

“Just a smokescreen,” he had finished with a smile, falling into step beside her. It wasn’t that casual grin he gave so often after a smart comment, and it definitely wasn’t that gross and totally unsexy smirk he’d get when she said something that he considered to be innuendo (which could pretty much be anything). It was more like that look he’d had when she invited him back in to her house, a month or so ago now. _Feels longer._ Anyway, like that look, but bolder.

She didn’t want to like it.

He had made a face then like he was going to say something else, and although a surprisingly large part of her was curious, most of the rational percentage of her brain willed him to keep his mouth shut. Things had been so easy, so simple between them the last few weeks, and she wasn’t ready for that to end.

Maybe some power or spirit or God (of the non-hell variety) was smiling on her, because instead of continuing, he stumbled.

Immediately, without pausing for a second to think it through, she put her arms out to catch him. He had too much momentum, so instead of helping, she just succeeded in bringing herself down with him as they fell into the open grave.

Spike had actually ended up taking the brunt of the fall, so she couldn’t blame head trauma for what happened next. She started laughing. Something about his shocked and disgruntled expression was just so absolutely silly. In that moment he didn’t look like any of the roles he put on: Big Bad, hopeless romantic, dedicated lieutenant. He’d just looked like…Spike.

Or maybe William. She wasn’t sure.

“What are you laughing at, missy?” he asked grumpily, pulling himself to a sitting position. If she had possessed more brain power at that moment, she would have scrambled away from him, but she was still laughing.

“You...just…ha, you looked like a cat that…fell out of a tree,” she said between gasping giggles.

“Oh, like you’ve never fallen into an open grave,” he groused. “They’re a dime a dozen in this hellhole! In a town with this many dead and undying, seems like a waste to even dig them, least till they’ve been gone a month or so. You know, through the lunar cycle, in case some genius decides to do a raising… What?”

During his rant, she had noticed their uncomfortable proximity. She was still sitting knees bent on either side of him, which had been bad enough. When he’d sat up, that had put his face awfully close to hers. So terribly close that it had been hard not to let her mind wander as he talked, so hard not to notice the blue of his eyes and how his lower lip jutted out into a pout as he spoke. When he’d met her eyes to ask her “what”, though, the situation became even worse. He had added that stupid head-tilt that made him seem so vulnerable and innocent. Maybe it was some sort of beginner’s thrall, or maybe she was just weak, vamp-laying Buffy, but something in that gesture made her brain go from barely functional to totally shorted out.

So, very slowly, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

His response had been immediate, sliding one of those nicely proportioned hands up to her hair to draw her even closer while another rested on her waist. She would have thought, not that she’d imagined this happening, that maybe he would have been a little more hesitant, expecting her to pull away at any second. She might have expected that reverent look to cross his face, but then again, she kept her eyes closed, although she had no delusions about who was kissing her.

His kiss hadn’t been rough, though, just passionate. Not demanding, but offering more, and she only seemed too willing to take it. He had been the one to part his lips and she accepted the invitation to explore. She had opened her eyes for a brief second when he broke the kiss, only to close them again as he began to kiss a path down her neck. _Probably shouldn’t be so open about giving a vamp access to prime territory_ , but it had felt so incredibly good, so good that words were totally inadequate.

Then it had happened.

She _moaned_.

It wasn’t some weak kitteny sound that she could pretend she hadn’t made. No, it was a full-voiced, long, almost desperate noise. She could have chalked it up to instinct or memory, but no. She just _had_ to attach his name to it.

“Ohh, Spike…”

Ugh, she couldn’t even think about the awkward aftermath. It had ended, maybe as he had expected, with her making quick excuses and running like hell.

It had been a one-time experiment, a product of the late night and the post-slaying energy and…those damn eyes of his. So, no guilt! It wasn’t like she’d ever do it again.

* * *

Okay, she had really meant it at the time. It’s not like she had been planning to kiss Spike more than once (twice counting the thank-you kiss, and…a lot if you counted the spell, but she wouldn’t, of course) – that would be gross. And wrong. Super, super wrong.

But it had happened.

The first time she saw him after the grave incident, it was super awkward. Like, Xander trying to ask out a girl when he was 15 awkward. It had been bad. He kept shooting her these furtive, hopeful looks whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. Seriously, for a vampire? Not big on the stealthy.

She’d just felt weird about the whole thing and tried not to look at him. It was like kissing him had given him some sort of weird supernatural powers – _well, more weird supernatural powers_. The kind with hypno-eyes, like Dracula. And she was like 99% sure that Spike hadn’t had those before. But looking into that icy blue – wham, she got sucked in!

So she just didn’t look at him.

It was working until the end of the night, after they had loosened up a bit from laughing at a clumsy, overconfident fledge.

“- like the Niblet after a growth spurt, all legs and not a clue what to do with them,” he had chuckled. She remembered the glint in those eyes she had been trying so desperately not to look into. He had leaned on a crypt all casual-like, and feeling limbless, she’d leaned too.

“It was like fighting a baby deer!”

“A bit pathetic, honestly.”

“Yeah…”

The trailiness of her words was the result of suddenly realizing how close their faces were and _how easy it would be to just…_

“I should go,” she’d said automatically.

She wasn’t sure what his weird hesitation had been about, like maybe he was going to push the issue and make her talk about it or even just kiss her again then and there, but he shook it off in a second and told her goodnight.

That signaled when she should have started using her muscles. Unfortunately, Buffy’s brain didn’t quite catch on to that.

It was unfair for him to have such good bone structure, really. Especially with the moonlight accentuating the hollows of his cheeks and the slight openness of his mouth between those admittedly nice lips.

In hindsight, she guessed it was inevitable that she’d lean in to kiss him.

_Again_.

After that point, the whole kissing battle was lost. It was Buffy’s Hormones 2 to Buffy’s Common Sense 0. And that gap just kept widening, night after night after night.

But it wasn’t like it would go any farther than kissing.

* * *

It wasn’t like she would say that she had slept with Spike. _Technically_.

Two reasons: first, she totally ditched once reality set in, so no sleeping took place; second, because although Willow would click her tongue and say “heteronormative,” and she was probably right, but Buffy had to cling to this slight bit of sanity she had left – they hadn’t had sex in the way people first imagine sex between two people of different sexes.

This whole thing had really been predicated on him not questioning her sudden friendliness. And as long as that held up, she became comfortable with their routine. He’d come by the house to see Dawn – act normal. Swing by the Bronze for drinks – act normal, and maybe a little meaner if the other Scoobies were around. Head out on patrol – friendliness. Stop by the crypt – _extra_ friendliness.

Spike would probably say that friends didn’t usually stick their tongues into each other’s mouths, but what did he know about friendship, anyway?

“Buffy,” he had finally asked after a week. His words had come out a little strained, considering she was peppering his face and neck with friendliness. “What are we doing?”

She’d pulled back and tried to remain calm. _Call it off, call it off!_ “What, over a hundred years of experience and you can’t tell?” she said instead. “Jeez, maybe I have been doing it wrong.”

Her humor failed to charm him.

“You know what I mean. What are we?”

“Friends.”

“Friends can do this?” he’d asked, and her memory was very vivid here as he gave her a passionate kiss. _Mmm_.

“Yeah.”

“And…this?” She remembered the sharp blue of his eyes holding her gaze, asking for tacit permission as he slipped a hand under her blouse. Her breath caught just remembering. His hands were cool, but softer than she’d expected, and she’d probably made some very incriminating noises as he traced the shape of her breasts.

_Maybe I should talk to Giles about whether there are…possessing lust demons._ As Spike had touched her, she had reached out for his other hand and slowly guided it downward. “And this.”

“Mmm…you’ll have to teach me more about friendship.”

The next thing she remembered in any detail was being downstairs while Spike did something that Riley had never enjoyed doing. Based on his enthusiasm and noises, though, he seemed to enjoy it a lot.

On her part, she was glad that the crypt was fairly secluded. _Although I might have woken the dead…_

It was when he was kissing his way back up her body that she began to wig. She seemed to float above her body as she heard herself make her mumbled excuses, gather up her clothes and tattered dignity, and get the hell out of Sunnydale Cemetery.

Even now, she still couldn’t pinpoint what had scared her so much.

* * *

_Oh, God, no._

She had not expected this. Well – she hadn’t wanted to expect this. Especially so soon.

In late night moments of honesty, she had thought maybe things would go like so. Kissing Spike would lead to sex with Spike (lots of it!) which would lead to guilty feelings and she’d break it off before getting too attached.

Somehow, she had skipped ahead. She had anticipated weeks, maybe months more of denial and fun, but despite how much she craved another round with him, she couldn’t go back.

She…had feelings for him.

God, she was having warm fuzzies for _Spike_.

It had to have started before the other night, because regardless of what she remembered from bio about oxytocin, there was no way it worked that fast. You didn’t just fall in love (had she really just thought that?) with a guy because he goes down on you once.

Well…one session.

One long, incredible session. Seriously, he should never talk again. Just a waste of that glorious mouth.

_Of course, his voice is nice too…and sometimes he says pretty words._

Like the other night, pre-wiggage, when he’d told her she was “wild and beautiful and vibrant like the sun.” She’d liked that, the power of the image. It was sort of freeing, like she didn’t have to pretend to be something she wasn’t. Isn’t. Whatever.

Oh God! She’d done it again! Totally lost her train of thought, and jumped onto the Spike train of gooeyness like some sort of lovesick turn-of-the-century hobo. _Should probably let that metaphor go, huh?_

She was losing it. Totally, completely losing it.

She couldn’t do this. It was…a match made in hell. _Basically_ literally.

If she stayed like this with her own brain for an echo chamber, she would snap and either declare her eternal love for a vamp who’d been her enemy again and again or she would actually murder him. She had to get some help, she had to talk to someone. But who?

Dawn was out of the question. She would be Team Spike ra ra ra all the way, no shot at objectivity. Plus, she would probably _tell_ Spike what was going on, which…was the last thing she needed.

Willow was her best friend, and had been for years, but she had been so busy and wrapped up in her own stuff lately. On the other hand, she seemed pretty neutral, Spike-wise, so…maybe.

She loved Xander dearly, but she wasn’t sure she wanted advice from a guy marrying an ex-demon. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! And not that Xander was a big Spike supporter, but he was not exactly Mr. Neutrality in general.

Giles…nope, too weird.

Anya would probably just give her sex tips. _She has been around for a thousand years, so maybe there’s something in that, though_.

And she liked Tara, but she just didn’t know her well enough. Plus, she could just imagine how hurt Willow would be if she found out Buffy had talked to her girlfriend about this before her. Not that she planned for it to get out, but around the Hellmouth, secrets had a way of outing themselves.

* * *

“Have you ever had…feelings that you didn’t want?” Buffy asked, trying to sound off-the-cuff as she stirred another sugar packet into her coffee. Her sleep cycle had been totally wrecked by this whole thing.

“Like what kind of feelings? Oh, like… _feelings_ feelings? Well…yeah, I guess so,” Willow said thoughtfully. “I mean, there was the whole me-Oz-Xander-Cordelia debacle. I tried that whole de-lusting spell. But then…”

“Spike,” she said, remembering.

“What? Oh, I was gonna say, you know, realized I was a lesbian, but yeah. So why do you ask?”

“Uh…” Buffy scrambled to think of a rational reason.

“Spike,” Willow said suddenly.

_Abort mission!_ “What? No! No, it’s not…”

“Red.” Spike’s voice came from behind her.

_Shit. That’s what I get for meeting her at night, I guess._

“Spike,” she heard herself saying, not really meeting his eyes.

“Slayer,” he replied without malice. Then he looked at Willow. “Mind if I join you?”

“Oh, uh…sure, that’s fine.”

“Won’t bother you, will it, Slayer?”

“Me? No! I mean, psh, why would it?” _Way to hold it together, Buff._

“Think you might have mentioned something about mortal enemies once,” he answered, watching her carefully. She pasted on a smile.

“That was a long time ago. We’re patrol buddies now, remember?”

“Right,” he said slowly as he sat down. “Buddies.”

“Even friends,” piped in Willow unhelpfully.

Spike’s eyes glittered. “Friends.”

She shivered involuntarily.

Willow seemed oblivious. “How’s the sitch on the demon front? I’ve been totally out of touch.”

“Fine, fine.” Buffy jumped in before Spike could say anything. “Totally run of the mill. _Normal_. Which is good.”

“I don’t see what’s so great about normal,” Spike said quietly. Buffy shot him a look. “Well, I think I need a drink. Can I get you ladies anything?”

“Another iced coffee?” Willow suggested, shaking her empty cup. “It helps with the study brain.”

“Um, me too. Hot. With – “

“Two sugars and half a spoonful of cream. Right.” He swept off.

Buffy swallowed.

“So, you two come here a lot?” Willow asked. _Is she suspicious or am I just paranoid?_

She tried to smile. “Uh, yeah. You know, patrols. Late nights.”

“And the Scoobies have all been pretty busy, I guess. Totally slacking on the best-friend-y duties.”

“That’s okay! You all…have your own stuff going on.”

Her friend looked like she might say something else, but she was interrupted by Spike’s return to the table. Ever graceful, he somehow managed to look dangerous and feline while balancing two coffees and a whiskey. “Nosh is on its way, asked ‘em to cook it up fresh.”

“Poker must be going well,” Buffy said automatically.

He grinned. “Cleaned them out, and helped Clem sell off some troll gold besides. It’s been a…very good week.”

_My coffee is suddenly fascinating._

“Why do you eat people food, Spike? I mean…Angel never ate people food, right?” The last question was directed to Buffy.

“No, not really. He said it didn’t taste like anything,” Buffy said.

Spike snorted. “Maybe he got it confused with his bland personality.” She gave him a warning look and he glowered. “Or maybe the perfect prince never tried hot sauce. I dunno.”

“Spike…”

He glared back at her, and she could see the hurt and jealousy reflected clearly in those bluer than blue eyes. Unwillingly, she felt her gaze soften, and the anger in his eyes faded into a look of naked longing. “Buffy…” he said softly. Her heart did a somersault.

She stood up quickly. “Okay, you know, I should really – um, just be getting back to Dawn and everything, I told her we could hang out tonight. Uh, with Willow. Enjoy your onion thing.”

Out in the alley, Willow gave her the look. She knew it was coming. It was the Best Friend Knowledge look, the “I Know Something’s Up, Missy” look.

Buffy met her eyes and sighed. “No judgment?”

“Buffy!” Willow exclaimed, looking shocked and not a little distressed. “Okay, what exactly has been going on? Because clearly, I missed a lot. I mean, there was so much tension, I thought one of you might spontaneously combust.”

“Don’t make jokes about that on the Hellmouth,” Buffy said wryly.

“Tell me from the beginning exactly what’s going on with you and Spike.”

So she told her, in somewhat spare detail and without too many warm fuzzies leaking through. She hoped.

“…and I wanted to tell you tonight because I’m so confused,” she finished finally.

Willow looked pensive. “I want to tell you not to do it, because…well, bottle-in-face, chain-you-in-basement, crazy-sex-robot…but on the other hand, I want to tell you to go for it, because this whole teamwork, mutual-trust thing actually seems like it could be good for you. Plus, I mean, he’s a hottie for those that swing that way.”

“Yeah…”

She sighed. “But…what do you want, Buffy? Because this whole time you’ve just been telling me this like it’s something that happened to you, and not something you chose. If he’s…taking advantage of you or if you don’t want to…you know, I’ll do one of those awful torture curses on him. Like, penis rotting off curses.”

“Taking a page from Anya’s book?”

Willow rolled her eyes, but then looked earnest. “Buffy, you’re my best friend. I want you to be happy. Would this – would Spike – make you happy?”

“It’s not that simple,” Buffy said in a small voice. “It’s _wrong_.”

She looked at her friend, willing her to understand. But Willow only frowned. “Says who?”

Buffy shrugged. “People.”

“Come on, Buffy, you’re the Slayer. You’re like the queen of doing right. You have the best moral compass of anyone I know. So if it feels wrong to you…penis curse offer is still open. But if you’re just worried about what other people think, then don’t be. You get to make the rules for your life.”

She didn’t say anything. _Is this really what I want? Do I really want to be in a relationship with Spike? If so…doesn’t that make me wrong?_

_But I…_

“Buffy, do you really…love him?”

The world was closing in on her.

She heard herself say, “Yes.”

Then, more consciously, she said it again. “Yes. Yeah, I…I really think I do. Or at least I could. God, this is weird. But…yes.”

The weirdest part was that saying it didn’t feel wrong at all.

And it didn’t feel wrong to head back towards the Bronze, where Spike was still half-heartedly picking at the food. She felt her face flush at his hopeful expression. She couldn’t really say exactly what she was trying to say, but in the end, she got across the message. _I want to try this._

It felt right. It felt good, and complete, to kiss him without the burden of guilt around her neck. At the crypt she wrapped herself around him and breathed in deep and it felt right, so right, _oh yes right there_ right.

And maybe she could be happy after all.

 

                                                                                                                               


End file.
